Artist Daniel Luna has an upcoming show at the Museo de las Americas in Denver. He was at his Denver home/studio on Wednesday, February 1, 2012. He begins work on painting a wood carving for a commission. Cyrus McCrimmon, The Denver Post

To hear Dan Luna’s meandering, often mystical storytelling, his life has been scenes in a theater of the absurd arranged for the amusement of “the gods.”

The gods were generous when they placed Luna, now 57, within a family of smart, enigmatic people: His father, Dan Luna Sr., a championship tennis player, teacher and public servant; his late mother, Jessica Luna, also a teacher and a respected Chicana artist and community activist; and his five siblings, who left their mark in all of the endeavors pioneered by their parents.

“I grew up in that whole upheaval, when society was changing,” Luna says of his childhood in Pueblo, which was characterized by discipline, academics, athletics and civic responsibility. “Art was just part of the whole gig.”

The gods teased when they gave Luna, now one of Denver’s most prolific and familiar painters, a rare eye disease that necessitates he wear bottlecap glasses.

The gods laughed when, after a dark period of over-excess that nearly cost him his life, he fell in love with a woman who adored cats. He, of course, is allergic.

And the gods smiled when, a little over a year ago, a casual visit to the Museo de las Americas resulted in the rekindling of a longtime friendship with its executive director, Maruca Salazar, and the new exhibition there, “Why Not… Retrospective of Daniel Luna.”

The show features works gleaned from the whole of Luna’s career, many procured from the homes and workplaces of friends and collectors throughout Colorado. It runs through May 28 and includes a public conversation with the artist at 4:30 p.m. on April 19.

“Everbody always laughs when I have to go out into society,” Luna says of that commitment. Among his slightly antisocial behaviors: He rarely sleeps and tends to paint 12 or more hours a day.

“Even if I go to bed at 5:30,” he says, “I get up at 5.”

He sits at a small table near a picture window in his living room. The table is one of only a few pieces of furniture around the first floor of a painted red brick, 1890 house near downtown Denver that Luna shares with his partner, Paula Leek, and their son, Lucas Luna.

The artist’s work — both his paintings and his writing — dominates this part of the house. There’s also evidence of his favorite hobby: making mix tapes with such titles as “Juicy Gems” and “The Right Treatments” from library CDs.

“It’s the poor man’s Internet” Luna says of his mix tapes, which he sometimes snail-mails to long-distance friends so they can listen to the same music at the same time when Luna calls on the telephone.

He’s never used the real Internet, and cellphones hold little appeal.

In the same way that Luna’s more surreal paintings can mess with the viewer’s emotions and perceptions, he tries to catch a visitor off guard by pairing his paint-splotched khakis with an ideology-bending American eagle patriotism tee, then makes that unsuspecting guest recite poetry aloud to satisfy his curiosity.

“‘Vampire vision,’ that’s what my mother called it,” he says. “You’re always observing, and the intense moments are that much more intense.”

He calls it vampire vision. The Museo’s Maruca Salazar calls it “regional mythology.”

“Danny has the power to transform the ordinary into extraordinary,” Salazar says during a recent walk through the Daniel Luna show. “Where else would you see a native woman roasting a watermelon, and that watermelon representing the power of the sun? …Only in Danny’s mind.”

“Where else would you see chickens crying over fried eggs? …Only in the mind of Daniel Luna.”

“And where else do you see a ‘thief of dreams,’ which is this little creature that comes out of your head and sneaks up on you and then takes your dreams away?”

” …Only in the mind of Danny Luna.”

The retrospective goes a long way toward supporting the Museo’s mission to highlight the diversity of Latino art and culture. But Salazar says hosting this show also has the power to draw out the community.

Why? Because hundreds of people around Colorado own Daniel Luna paintings, often purchased from one of several small shows he holds over the course of a year, or from one of the restaurants that showcase his work, the most familiar being Julia Blackbird’s New Mexican Cafe on West 32nd Avenue.

“When Danny paints a piece, and you like it, you don’t have to pay thousands of dollars for it,” Salazar says. “So everybody in this community that loves art and is a Latino, or who simply likes to have some bright colors in their house, has a Danny Luna piece.”

The show includes works created decades before Luna developed his signature style — vivid representations framed by thick, black lines. But his partner Paula Leek says there was a clear turning point in his aesthetic since they met roughly two decades ago.

“He used to be really raw… before we had our son,” she says. “After that, the work just kind of softened.”

As much as their son, Lucas, has fueled his father’s art, so too, has Dan Luna imparted a sense of curiosity and a drive to create on the teenager. Lucas’ favorite artistic medium? Food coloring, Marzipan and fondant. Last year, the younger Luna beat out a handful of college and culinary school students for a part-time job at Le Bakery Sensual, the erotic bakery.

“I’ve been exposed to so many things compared to other children,” says Lucas, 16. “Being with Dad has matured me faster than others, and I can look at the world from almost any angle that I want to.”

The nice thing about Dutch ovens is that their iron is of one weave, so to speak, with nothing but metal all around, over and above, whatever’s cooking in them. So hot coals on their noggins is a no-never-mind.

The annual hop harvest is just around the corner in Washington state’s Yakima Valley, the agricultural area where 75 percent of America’s hops are grown, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.